


February 14th

by unus_annus_eilish



Series: And the World Keeps Turning [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: I'm relatively experienced, Inspired by a Cavetown Song, M/M, and I'll be pretty active I think, anyway, but you ain't seen nothing yet, i write nothing but angst, it's kind of angsty, the pov doesn't follow the lyrics well though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29450205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unus_annus_eilish/pseuds/unus_annus_eilish
Summary: Valentine's day isn't always a good thing.based on the song "February 14th" by Cavetown
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: And the World Keeps Turning [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163180
Kudos: 25





	February 14th

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is the beginning of a huge project so if you enjoy you can follow the twitter for it @atwktdnf so you get updates :)

[she rubs my back for me, on february fourteenth]

Stumbling out of his room, much later than anyone should be waking up, George rubs his eyes. Soft light pours into the living room through the partially open blinds.

Through his sleep-fogged thoughts and cloudy eyes, George recognizes a lump on the couch. "Dream," he mumbles, walking over to his friend, "wake up."

His words slur together as he speaks, gently coaxing his roommate awake. unsuccessful, he kneels on the floor next to the couch. George starts to pester him, blowing softly on his face.

A few moments later, Dream is awake. 

"Good morning, sleepyhead," George says sweetly.

"Morning," Clay mumbles before realizing where he is, "fuck, guess I slept on the couch again."

"You really should stop that," George agrees.

"Not like I do it on purpose."

"I know, I know."

Clay sits up, grabbing at his shoulders.

"Shit," he says as he attempts to massage the area.

"Need help?" George offers. Clay nods. "Sit on the floor," George instructs as he moves to swap places.

When they're in position, George places his hands on his shoulders and digs his thumbs into the tense muscles. Clay groans, "Thanks, you're really good at this."

"I know."

"A bit cocky though, four stars for the big head."

George giggles, but holds back his risky comment; there's no need to interrupt the domesticity with their usual banter.

After a few minutes, George ruffles his hands through Clay's hair. "better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"Anytime."

[she says that i'll do great;]

"You nervous for later?"

"Is there any way I can't be?"

"You'll do great and you know it."

"But what if I don't?" Clay asks, voice shaking.

[that's not what's scaring me]

"What are you scared of?"

"In general?"

George gives Clay a glare, "You know what I'm talking about."

"It's nothing important, you're probably right."

"You know we'll be right there if you need us."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know."

I get up on my feet

"I should go get ready, big day."

"I should go too," Clay agrees as he stands from the ground. "my shoulders do feel better though, thanks."

[give her one last hug]

As George stands, he puts his arms out for a hug. Clay leans into him, bending over and wrapping his arms under George's, lifting him off the ground. George huffs in annoyance but lets it happen.

"I love you," Clay whispers, "you don't have to say it back."

[they're all waiting for me]

Clay sets George down, walking to the kitchen quietly. He opens the fridge with a sigh before quickly realizing they have next to nothing. He shuts the fridge and retreats back to his room.

[I wish that was enough]

George stands in the living room, still a little shocked. Clay has always said that he loves him, but never like that. I love you, you don't have to say it back. The words repeat in his head like a ticking bomb. I love you, you don't have to say it back.

[I got your letter]

There’s a note on the bathroom mirror when George shuffles in minutes later. “Need to go get some air and I want you with me. Come get me when you’re ready to go. -dream”

He hurries through his routine, knowing a shower will do him more good after being outside than before. He throws on an oversized hoodie and jeans, grabbing two matching blue beanies before going to Clay’s room.

He knocks on the door, waiting until his roommate mumbles something to open it. “Ready to go?” George asks. Clay nods and climbs out of bed, wearing a very similar outfit to George.

George laughs softly at the clothes, handing him the beanie. “So we can match even more,” he jokes.

[hope you feel better than I do]

“I know logically I shouldn’t be this anxious about it, I just don’t want anything to change.”

George hums. He can’t relate exactly, but he knows the feeling, and Clay, well enough to understand. 

Their hands brush as they walk, never fully committing. The moment is gentle, but not peaceful; there’s an uncertain restlessness from Clay, mild confusion from George. 

[I miss you]

“Remember before we met in person the first time?” George starts, “That was big and scary, wasn’t it? And look how that turned out.”

“You’re really good at calming me down, you know that?”

George smiles, “Of course I am, I’m your best friend.”

[she said she's here if I ever need someone to talk to]

Clay returns the grin. “That you are.” he pauses. “you know I’m here for you if you ever need it too, right?”

“Obviously.”

“So…” Clay prompts, “anything on your mind?”

but all I ever want to talk about is you

“Not a thought.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You don’t think I can tell?”

“No, I know you can.”

“Then tell me the truth.”

George winks and jokingly blows a kiss, “no.”

[think I zoned out again]

They walk in silence for a while, letting their minds wander as they do the same. They return home after an hour, still turning over the conversations they had had.

[but I still tried my best]

“Why do people think this’ll change anything?” Clay asks later that evening, just over an hour before the stream.

“You seem to think it will, do you not?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“And why’s that?”

Clay huffs. There’s silence. “I guess,” he stops and doesn’t continue.

George nods. “That’s what I thought, now let's go get you ready.”

Clay smiles, ever grateful for his best friend and his never-ending ability to make everyone feel safe and comfortable, no matter the situation.

Clay leads George to his bedroom, where they proceed to take half of his closet out and lay it on his bed. “What vibe are you thinking?” George asks, “because this,” he gestures to Clay’s outfit, “isn’t going to work.”

Clay scoffs at the comment, gesturing back at George’s outfit. “You’re wearing almost the exact same thing!”

“I’m not the one showing my face to the entire internet for the first time. My impression on people was left long ago.”

“A bad one,” Clay mumbles. George doesn’t hear.

“I think you should wear something super fancy,” George states, “It’ll be funny if they think you’ve been good at dressing this whole time and they just didn’t get to see it.”

“Funny?” Clay asks. George ignores him.

“You should wear this crewneck,” George throws a pastel green jumper into Clay’s arms, “these jeans,” a pair of black ripped jeans are thrown onto the small pile, “either these, or these,” two different pairs of vans, one black, one green, are added to the pile, “and I have some things from my room that you’ll need too.”

“You’re dressing me up as Spifey,” Clay comments.

“Got a problem with that?” George asks in a tone that he knows Clay can’t disagree to.

He puts on the outfit, complete with some chains, a necklace, and two small rings that George gave him.

“I look stupid,” Clay comments, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah,” George agrees, earning a glare from Clay.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I was just agreeing! It is a shame though, all the cute boys can pull that off.”

Clay takes the comment as a challenge. “I’ll pull it off so well.”

George wiggles his eyebrows and they both laugh. “Yeah you will,” George jokes in a flirty tone.

Clay swats near George. "shut up." He adjusts the collar of the sweater and tucks it into his waistband in the front. He readjusts the chains and ruffles his own hair. He puts a hand in his pocket and stands back into a confident pose. George is speechless. "Who's the fashionable one again?" Clay teases.

“Holy shit," is all George can muster. Clay giggles at that.

"I think this'll do," Clay jokes, "think I should tease it on Twitter?"

George nods, still shocked. "absolutely."

Clay sighs and grabs his phone off his nightstand. "if you insist." He poses again, taking a mirror selfie, purposely cropping out his face.

"45 minutes," George says, regaining speech.

Clay nods.

[they said it's my best show]

It goes well, to say the least. It's the most watched stream in the history of Twitch— something that Tommy will never hear the end of, and Clay's got almost every trending spot on Twitter. The descriptions get more and more confusing.

There's hate for sure. people are mad that he's trending, that he's milking his existence, manipulating young fans, etc. but it's nothing new. There's so much love is almost impossible to find.

[I hope you were impressed]

George watched the whole time. He wasn't in the room, but he kept sending funny tweets to him about the stream.

George has fallen even more in love somehow.

[just trying to buy more time]

"That was crazy," Clay yells when he ends the stream, "What the fuck!"

"You did really well," George responds, "I watched the whole thing."

"Of course you did."

"I forgot how much of an ego you're gonna get from all this attention."

Clay rolls his eyes. "Yours is bigger."

"I was born with it, you weren't."

"Isn't that worse?"

"There is no objective 'worse',"

"Smart ass," Clay spits, "at least I earned it."

"What? the big-ass head? You streamed with a facecam. I've been doing that for years."

"A year," Clay corrects, "and it's not my fault you didn't capitalize on your assets."

"My face sure is an asset, isn't it?"

Clay blushes, "you're such an idiot."

"So you admit it!"

"I admit nothing," Clay stutters, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You called my face an asset."

"And?"

"-Means you think I'm attractive."

"We all do," Clay mutters under his breath. George hears the whisper but not the words.

"Say it to my face." George's tone is not joking. It's on the verge of flirtatious, slightly demanding. His face flushes pink. Clay doesn't pick up on it. He stays quiet.

George decides the moment is over. He jumps on Clay's back, nearly knocking him over— but they don't fall. Clay stumbles to regain his balance. "what was that for?"

"Carry me to the couch," George whines. It's an order, so Clay obeys.

Clay carries him the whole 10 steps to the couch, gently setting George down and laying down on top of him, snuggling into his side.

"Cozy?" George asks. Clay nods and snuggles closer.

They lay there for hours, nothing but the sound of gentle breathing. George knows better.

"Dream," he shakes his shoulders, "you don't want to sleep on the couch again."

Clay rolls over and almost on the floor. "What?"

[when as she'd go she'd say]

"You should get up," he pauses, "we both should. You were just saying you gotta stop sleeping on the couch."

"Oh uh," Clay stands up, "you're right, yeah."

[with one regretful smile]

George stands up, walking towards the hallway. He turns around when he reaches his door. The smile on his face isn't happy or soft, it's disappointed— but Clay's sleepy mind can hardly tell the difference.

[happy valentine's day]

George opens his bedroom door. "uh," he shifts, "happy valentine's day, by the way." The door shuts.

[I just didn't stay]

"Fuck." Clay flops back down on the couch. The ceiling lights are off but the LED lamps aren't, glowing soft pink. Clay wants to cry.

[feel my body falling away]

"Happy Valentine's day," he whispers as he sneaks out the front door.

[feel my body falling away]

"Happy Valentine's day," he says as he pulls out of the driveway.

[feel my body falling away]

"Happy Valentine's day," he sobs as he sits alone in his car in a parking lot in the middle of nowhere.

[i'll see you again]

He feels hollow but anything is better than what he felt in the living room. Anything is better than knowing you fucked up your valentine's day and having to stay in the house where it happened. 

He'll return of course, the domesticity of home clawing at his heart as soon as he stepped out.

'Home,' Clay thinks, 'I need to go home.'

[some day.]

**Author's Note:**

> again, twitter for updates, if you enjoyed it'll probably get better. I'm a bit rusty and also this is my first time writing DNF.
> 
> main twitter: @elle_says_words  
> tumblr: @the-inevitability-of-death  
> Instagram: @unus.annus.eilish
> 
> please comment! it really motivates me <3


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